ACT V - Scene IX

Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colors, Malcolm, old Siward, Ross, the other Thanes, and Soldiers.

MALCOLM

I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.

SIWARD

Some must go off, and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

MALCOLM

Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

ROSS

Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt. He only lived but till he was a man, The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd In the unshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he died.

SIWARD

Then he is dead?

ROSS

Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow Must not be measured by his worth, for then It hath no end.

SIWARD

Had he his hurts before?

ROSS

Ay, on the front.

SIWARD

Why then, God's soldier be he! Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death. And so his knell is knoll'd.

MALCOLM

He's worth more sorrow, And that I'll spend for him.

SIWARD

He's worth no more: They say he parted well and paid his score, And so God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head.

MACDUFF

Hail, King, for so thou art. Behold where stands The usurper's cursed head. The time is free. I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl That speak my salutation in their minds, Whose voices I desire aloud with mine- Hail, King of Scotland!

ALL

Hail, King of Scotland!

Flourish.

MALCOLM

We shall not spend a large expense of time Before we reckon with your several loves And make us even with you. My Thanes and kinsmen, Henceforth be Earls, the first that ever Scotland In such an honor named. What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exiled friends abroad That fled the snares of watchful tyranny, Producing forth the cruel ministers Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen, Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands Took off her life; this, and what needful else That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace We will perform in measure, time, and place. So thanks to all at once and to each one, Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.